


I wanna break every clock

by stellations



Series: What if I were blind [1]
Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 20:25:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5679598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellations/pseuds/stellations
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>AU - Imagine your OTP prompt where one is blind. Takes the course of Helen's life.<br/>Title from "Inevitable" by Anberlin</p>
    </blockquote>





	I wanna break every clock

**Author's Note:**

> AU - Imagine your OTP prompt where one is blind. Takes the course of Helen's life.  
> Title from "Inevitable" by Anberlin

Helen had spent her entire life hearing about how beautiful she was. She always took great care to thank them and appear sincere. To be perfectly honest, she was always grateful to hear something like that. A compliment was a compliment, no matter who said it or why. Her only difficulty with it was her inability to form her own opinion on the subject. That reflection of oneself that everyone else took for granted eluded her. It always had and always would. To her, the world was made of darkness, sometimes a lighter darkness than others, but it was always dark. No difference existed between sleeping and dreaming, between having her eyes squeezed tightly shut and allowing her eyelids to part. 

Over time she had perfected an expression of polite interest, one she could aim at someone she was speaking with and appear interested and focused on them. Her father had helped her, spending many long hours talking to her, familiarizing her with speech, with interacting and other social intricacies. At times, she would feel as though she could take on anything because she had practiced. She was determined that no one but her father should know until she wanted to tell them. In telling someone her secret, she would let them into her world, allow them to experience her as she experienced the world, and perhaps in doing so, she could form a bond with someone who would be willing to both care for her and live her life as she desired. 

“Father…” she began cautiously one night when she was still young, well before the age of marriage. “What should I do… if I want to see someone?”

He was sitting at the edge of her bed, close enough that she could feel the dip in the mattress by her knee. She felt it shift as he did, knowing he was turning towards her. The touch of his hand against hers made her smile, hoping he would have an answer that would help her deal with this separation she felt.

“That is a decision you will have to make for yourself, Helen,” he told her. “There are ways to see without using your eyes.”

At the time, she didn’t know what he meant and hoped that one day he would let her know. For most of her life no one else knew. She took great care to keep it secret, using the story of having weak ankles to procure herself an escort, another student who would walk her around, someone she could trust not to run her into anything. Her first foray into real studies was at Oxford, where she miraculously managed to keep her secret. After a family friend helped her walk into her first classroom there, she slid into a chair at the front and waited.

“Are you all right?” a concerned male voice asked her from her left. She carefully judged where he must have been, turning her head to smile at him.

“I am,” she answered politely. “My ankles are weak and I, unfortunately, require an escort whenever I go out lest I trip and make a fool of myself.”

She managed to laugh at her own expense, oddly pleased when he gave a deep laugh of his own. His voice was nice to hear and it held an air of mystery, something that clung to the space she imagined he occupied. Her smile warmed. 

“I doubt such a lovely woman could do something like that.”

“It has happened far more often than I care to admit.”

“If it would not be too forward of me, perhaps I could offer to be your escort.”

She paused at that, her smile faltering just slightly. Her father had warned her explicitly to be careful around other people. They could be trusted after time, but not immediately. Even so, she couldn’t help thinking that she would like to be able to trust this man.

“May I ask your name?” she inquired, politely.

“Montague John Druitt,” he answered easily and from the way his voice changed in pitch and location – and also the sudden and very soft breeze that floated by her – she suspected he had just stood up to bow to her. She inclined her head in respect. 

“My name is Helen Magnus. I would like it very much if you would.”

They spent the rest of the class enjoying learning and as Helen listened to their professor talking, taking in everything that was said and committing it to memory as she had to do, she found herself thinking that Mr. Druitt might be a very nice man to see.

He was her escort for the entire year and after some time she was introduced to others who shared their passion for learning and experimentation. Of course James Watson had been a distant friend for a number of months prior and she discovered with delight that he was a very close friend of John’s. Nigel Griffin was a boisterous young man, unafraid of speaking his mind, and Nikola Tesla was a foreigner, someone with a sharp mind and quick wit. Helen soon took to engaging in friendly and educated banter with him, something that seemed to cause John no small measure of jealousy. 

It was strange to think of anyone being jealous over her. 

John was her near-constant companion and they stayed up quite late into the nights simply talking. One such night it was so late that even her father had turned in before they were even tired and by the time they realized it, hours had passed while they had been in her sitting room. Helen didn’t think anyone else was still awake and slowly made her way to the door to shut it. She couldn’t hear anyone and hoped they were safe from prying eyes and wagging tongues. 

Pausing where she stood, she pressed her head to the door and tried to gauge where John was standing. He hadn’t made any noise since they stood up and so she couldn’t tell if he had moved or not. 

“John?” she asked, trying to stamp down on the tiny note of fear that welled up in her throat. “Where are you?”

“Right here, Helen,” was his answer and from that, she could tell exactly where he was. Relief washed over her and she carefully made her way back to him. He said nothing else for a while, not until she’d lifted her hands to grip his upper arms to steady herself. “What is it?”

She swallowed hard, fear bubbling up again. “I want so much to trust you, to know that I can tell you my secret without fear.”

“If it is a secret about love, then I suspect we both feel the same,” he told her, as a hand brushed over her hair and pushed the curls behind her ear. 

She couldn’t decide if that lump in her throat was relief or disappointment. He hadn’t noticed, had he? His words about her feelings were true, but she couldn’t tell if that was outweighing the knowledge that maybe he wasn’t the one to tell about her secret. And if he wasn’t, then how could he love her? How could she love him?

Tears pricked her eyes, sliding hotly down her cheeks, as she stood there. The hand in her hair moved to her cheeks, brushing away the silent stream, and in that moment, her father’s words from so many years ago came rushing back.

_“There are ways to see without using your eyes.”_

Touch. She could use touch.

“John, please,” she whispered, her voice tight with emotion. “Touch me. And let me touch you.”

He did, his hands running over her as she asked. They took their time with it and as his presence neared her, adding more black to her eternal darkness, she felt his mouth gently overtaking her own. So this was what kissing was like. She followed his example, allowing him to show her how to best perform tasks she had barely fantasized about. 

“Helen…” 

He paused after a few minutes, clearly asking for permission to continue. Helen swallowed her fear and nodded. “My room is behind us.”

That invitation was all it took. Soon enough, he guided her into her dark bedroom, making sure all of the lamps had been blown out before he started carefully working on their clothes. Her layers came first and as far as she was concerned, he turned it into gestures of awe and passion. As she allowed him to push her gently onto the bed, she found herself wishing she could see him with her eyes. 

His mouth found hers, his fingers exploring her as she lay there. She returned the favor, learning him as best she could, and by the time she granted him permission to take everything to the final level, she wasn’t upset anymore. Hope sprang within her, hope that he would be able to accept her now that she’d invited him into her room and allowed him to share her bed. 

They knew he wouldn’t be able to stay the night. He would need to sneak out and she had already formed an alibi about her corset snapping as to why she hadn’t called for a servant to help her undress. John’s lips found hers, holding her prisoner for a time before he moved away to get dressed. 

“John?” she called as she sat up in bed, clutching the sheets to her chest. It was now or never if she were to tell him her secret. “I have to tell you something.” Silence fell as she took a deep breath and somehow she knew he wouldn’t take this well. “I can’t see.”

“Neither of us can see at the moment, darling. The lamps aren’t lit.”

That was true and she felt an embarrassed flush hit her cheeks. 

“I know, but… this is my life, John. This darkness… it’s normal to me. I truly cannot see.”

Her breath caught in her throat as she waited for him to speak. He was so quiet she couldn’t tell where he was and part of her didn’t like that. Fear prodded at her, fear that he could strike at any moment and she wouldn’t –

But he would never strike at her. He loved her.

The mattress dipped by her knees as he sat down on the bed and one of his hands cupped her chin and turned her head, towards him she assumed. “I will keep your secret, darling,” he murmured softly before he kissed her again. She took it to mean they would be all right and she wouldn’t come to regret letting him into her life.

It wasn’t long before she did. 

Helen would never know fully if it was her secret and the burden of having a fiancé who would always rely on others or the Source Blood injection that finally drove John mad. Part of her never wanted to know and so she never asked. She tried her hardest to hold herself together, but once she discovered what he was doing, the grief nearly tore her apart. Fear of him, of who he had become, rattled her until she was certain she would fall apart. And through it all, one thing stuck out in her mind:

She still didn’t know what he looked like. If she ever touched his face without hearing his voice, she would never know it was him. 

“James, my ankles are weak. May I ask you to be my escort home?” she requested one night after the investigation had wrapped up. Normally, he did escort her home, but that was when he had offered out of fear for her safety, so she thought. Now she had something else to discuss with him, something she wanted to take him home to go over.

“Of course, Helen,” he agreed without hesitation. “I would have done so even if you hadn’t asked.”

She smiled, hoping her gratitude could be seen clearly. “Thank you.”

Lifting her arm up hesitantly, she waited for him to gently take her hand and rest it on his arm. His hand remained protectively over hers and she made a note to thank him sometime later for his compassion. There were days she could have sworn he already knew her secret, but she was too afraid to ask, so she fell silent and simply allowed him to guide her home.

He spoke to her while they walked, his voice gentle and reassuring, and she wondered why she hadn’t noticed the calmness to his presence. It was as though she were walking with a gentle mist. He had a certain mystery to him, but unlike John, she knew he was allowing her to find out whatever she wanted to about him. The mist was parting to grant her access and as he slid his arm from hers to place his hand at her lower back and slowly guide her inside, she thought she might like to see –

Her thoughts were thrown out of her mind as she hit a rough floorboard and tripped. His arms snaked around her, guiding her to him, and instead of falling flat on her face as she had feared she would, she soon found herself resting safely against James’ chest. She gave a startled little laugh, embarrassed tears pricking at her eyes. If she could just _see_ …

“I’m sorry, James,” she apologized as she got her bearings and slowly pushed back enough to smile up at him. “I didn’t see –”

“I know.” His response was so sudden he cut her off and for a moment she couldn’t figure out what to say. He knew. He had to know. So why wasn’t he upset with her for it?

“It’s easy not to see the floor.”

Or perhaps he didn’t know. She couldn’t tell. Once again, she wished she could see his face, tell what he was thinking through the way his face changed. Her father had often told her of facial clues and she thought she was lacking serious social cues by not being able to see them. It was a challenge she had worked her whole life to overcome and before now she thought she’d done a good job of it. 

Not knowing what expression James was making caused her to think otherwise. 

“Thank you,” she murmured once she had recovered her voice and he released her to leave. She watched him for a few moments before turning to count the steps down the corridors and to her room. It wasn’t until she reached her sitting room that she remembered she’d forgotten to ask him what she’d wanted to ask. 

She met with him the following week, after requesting to see him at her house. The sound of him walking up to the door filled her with happiness she hadn’t felt since her first night with John. It amazed her that she’d come to trust James so much in such a short time. After their greetings were given, she offered him her hand and he took it, guiding her to her sitting room, where she closed the door almost entirely once they were inside. 

“James, I have something to ask you,” she began, once she’d managed to ascertain where he was standing in relation to her. 

“You can ask me anything, Helen,” he responded from somewhere near the sofa. 

She took a few breaths as she moved over to sit down. The sofa dipped as he shifted his weight and she could tell he was nowhere near her. How entirely gentlemanly of him. John would have taken advantage of their closeness. A secret smile stole across her face, but it was fleeting in the wake of the topic she needed to discuss with him. 

“I need your help. I cannot tell my father, or risk his wrath over my recklessness, yet I cannot keep it or risk shaming him. The scandal alone would end his work.”

“What is it, Helen?”

His voice was calm, yet firm, and a gentle hand rested on her arm. She took a shuddering breath. 

“I fear I am with child. By John.”

And far enough along that she could be almost entirely certain. 

“If you don’t think you can or should have the child now… I know a friend who can help. He’s been attempting a new field of medical science and he owes me a favor. If anyone could place this child into stasis without risking harm to you or it, he can.”

It was beyond hope to hear those words and for the first time since she’d discovered what John had become, she wept. For a moment, she was alone in her tears, but soon after, James wrapped his arms around her and held her close. Her tears fell onto his coat, creating wet patches she knew would take time to dry. 

“Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, Helen. You are a friend and after everything you’ve been through recently, I could do no less.”

She would always treasure their friendship. Long after her embryo had been frozen, after her father had invited James to live with them and he had become a constant in her life, she found herself wondering what if…

What if she allowed herself to experience something again?

What if she trusted him with her secret? She’d trusted him with the secret of her child. No one but the three people involved knew about that. He had kept his promise to her then.

Only near the turn of the century, after John had reappeared and disappeared once more and Helen had decided she no longer wanted to be afraid of him or herself, she made her choice. Moving to his quarters at a late hour of the night when she knew he was in his study and still awake, she knocked on the door. It was fortunate she had long since memorized the number of steps to everywhere in the Sanctuary. 

She heard the door open and tried not to look as worried as she felt. “May I come in?”

“Of course,” he answered. The door creaked again and she knew he had opened it wider, but she couldn’t tell how wide or where he was. She paused to try to figure it out. Deciding she wasn’t going to have any better idea even if she waited days, she hesitantly stepped forward. One hand reached out to her side, in an attempt to feel where the door was so she wouldn’t hit it, but instead of touching it, she felt James’ hand gently close over her, a silent offer of support that she took without comment. 

Once inside, she chose to remain facing away from the door, even as he shut it and moved to her side.

“I have something to tell you,” she began, gazing straight ahead. Judging by the noise his feet made against the floor, she knew he wasn’t anywhere near her line of “sight” and somehow that was all right with her. 

“If it involves another child, I may have to ask you to be more careful.”

She couldn’t help it. She laughed. He did as well, softly, and she found herself grateful for the break in tension. Even so, she had to gather herself once again to tell him what she needed to tell him.

“I can’t see.”

“I know.”

She frowned, finally turning in the direction of his voice. “I mean it. I am entirely without sight.”

“I know, Helen. I’ve known since I met you.”

Fear raced inside her. “How? Who told you?”

“No one. I simply noticed you.”

He noticed her. He _noticed her_. 

Somehow those simple words meant more to her than anything else in her life ever had. 

“You have little tics, darling, and I noticed how surefooted you are even with your ‘weak ankles.’ I could only surmise that your wide-eyed look and well-placed steps meant that you actually were not seeing anything. You are blind. And somehow that made me love you and your fierceness even more.”

There it was, that one word she had come to fear and yet desire to hear once again. Her lower lip quivered. 

“It’s all right, Helen,” he continued, as though he hadn’t seen. “You can tell me anything and I do hope I have earned your trust. You certainly have mine by now.”

“James,” she whispered, her voice full of emotion. Tears of joy and relief teased her eyes. “May I ask a favor of you?”

“I’ve already given you my ultimatum on those.”

She gave a watery laugh, ducking her head as she turned a little more to face him. “I know it will seem a silly request –”

“Hardly possible.”

She ignored the interruption and took a deep breath. “I’d like to see you. May I touch your face?”

“Of course you may. Everyone else gets to see me whether I want them to or not. I see no reason not to grant you the same.”

His kindness and genuine concern made her chest squeeze painfully and she smiled through her tears. Hesitantly reaching up, she brushed her fingertips against his arms and rested them on his shoulders. He gently grasped her hands in his and lifted them up to place them against his cheeks. Her smile faltered as his hands fell away and she felt someone else’s face for the very first time. Her thumbs gently rubbed against his skin, feeling a beard that she had never known existed. John had been clean-shaven; she’d always felt skin when he kissed her. This was new, a sensation she had never expected. 

She took her time, carefully drawing a picture of him in her mind as she ran her fingers over his face. He even allowed her to touch his closed eyes, gently of course so she didn’t hurt him. Surprise stole over her, surprise that he trusted her this much. When she brushed her hands over his lips, she was startled to feel him press a kiss to her palm. It sent a feeling quite unlike any other zipping through her and she smiled. 

Once she was satisfied, she moved her hands back to his shoulders. “Thank you.” It meant a great deal that he had allowed her this and she hoped he knew it was special that she had let him into her world. 

“Now it is my turn to ask _you_ for a favor.”

He sounded nervous. Why was he nervous?

“Of course.”

He cleared his throat, another sign of nervousness. “I know it is hardly proper for a man and woman to engage in something like this without reason, especially at our rather advanced experiences –”

“I hardly care.”

It was his turn to ignore the interruption. “Even so, I find myself wanting to ask you… if I may kiss you.”

Her heart fluttered as her smile widened. She hadn’t expected that. Leave it to James to cause her all sorts of troubles of the heart. 

“I would like it very much if you did.”

His hands rested gently at her hips and she felt his presence shift towards her. For a moment, she thought she might suddenly fear being cornered like this, but James never gave her a reason to worry. Her eyes slid shut as she waited – not that it changed much about whether or not she could see him coming – and then he kissed her. The beard tickled her at first, but she soon grew used to it and even enjoyed it. Her hands slid back up to his neck and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. 

It was as he pulled back from the kiss that she realized something important: she felt safe in his arms. Trusting him was a good idea. 

Another year passed before she asked him to stay the night with her and by that point they both had given up caring about how they stood in society’s eyes. The only thing that mattered to them was how they stood with each other. 

That night, as James gently pushed her back against the mattress of his bed and climbed up next to her, as her lips sought and found his once more, she decided that being with him was one of the best decisions she had ever made. The lamps were out and the room was dark – for him as well as for her – and for once she felt as though she had an equal. He treated her as a woman, but also as someone who could match him. With him, she wasn’t fragile, and she treasured that above a great many things. 

Taking her cues from him, she explored every inch of him she was allowed access to, her fingers slowly sliding across his skin. Sleeping with him was different from sleeping with John. Where John had been firm and determined in his actions, James took his time, allowing her to make as many moves as he did, if not more. His fingers caressed her, making her feel like the most wanted and loved woman in the world. He made love to her that night, until they were both tired and satisfied. 

With one last kiss, he settled down beside her. She turned towards him, reaching a hand up to touch his face as she usually did these days. It was an intimate gesture, one she reserved for him alone, and one he seemed to take with pleasure. 

“I love you, darling.”

“As I love you.”

He remained with her for decades to come, even helped her finally bring that embryo to term and raised the baby as his own. At his side, she learned how to deal with her inability to see and she came to terms with it with his help. He made her realize it wasn’t anything to be ashamed of and that she could live a normal life even if others knew her secret. Together, they continued her father’s work, and she enjoyed every last minute of it.

His death in Bhalasaam brought her immense pain; Ashley’s death soon after nearly brought her to her knees with grief. Eventually, she came to terms with both, but she never fully accepted them. Her heart was always troubled by their absence in her life, though with time that wound began to heal and she allowed herself to slowly move on. 

Somehow, when she wasn’t looking, someone else became a constant in her life, the last person she would have expected. She wasn’t certain how she felt about him and his lewd comments about her, but something about him attracted her. In spite of the banter, she knew he cared for her; he knew her secret and yet he had never cared. It was never addressed, not even after she spent 113 years alone with it. 

And when everything was said and done, he was one of the only people she wouldn’t mind telling of her survival. In fact, Nikola was the first person she contacted after everything happened. 

`Come to the hotel and ask for my room number.`

He had sent her all manner of scathing replies, as she knew he thought she was dead, but she also knew him; his curiosity would get the better of him. The last year she’d spent getting to know him more and in spite of their differences, she’d come to realize that he was important to her.

Perhaps too important. 

She’d mapped out the number of steps it would take from the sewers to the hotel and how the ground felt at each step, arriving as soon as she could, in the dead of night. She was in a room she’d procured for the night when she heard a knock at the door. Quietly and carefully moving over to it – she had to use the wall as she hadn’t been here long enough to map it properly – she pulled open the door, hoping Nikola was there and not some stranger.

“You know, if this is a trick, I was expecting a better one.”

She smiled, recognizing the voice, and stepped back to offer him entrance.

“What reason would I have to trick you?” she asked. 

“Oh I don’t know, how about we discuss you blowing yourself up a few days ago? Lovely exit, by the way, I don’t think I got a chance to tell you that.”

She closed the door after he entered, turning around to face the sound of his voice. 

“Nikola.”

“Do you have any wine in here? I don’t think I’m quite up to speed on how you’ve managed to make me drunk enough to hallucinate.”

He was hurting; she knew that and she had no one to blame but herself for it. 

“Nikola, please.”

He drew a breath to continue, but she stopped him by reaching up to grip his upper arms.

“ _Nikola_.”

“What?”

“I want to see your face.”

The request cut him off, as she had known it would, and for a few moments they stood there in silence. She hoped he would take it for what it was and not go off on a tirade instead.

He surprised her by moving her hands up to his neck and leaving them there. “You can see all you want of me.”

She expected him to request to kiss her if he was going to let her see him, but the demand never came. Instead, he allowed her to feel his face for the first time, no strings attached. And for the first time, she mapped out what Nikola looked like to her. It was quick; mere moments passed before she gently tugged his head towards her in an attempt to kiss him. She remembered the distance and angle she’d always taken when James had leaned over to kiss her. Unfortunately she’d forgotten Nikola was a slightly different height than James and so she misjudged the distance, planting Nikola’s mouth on her nose.

She laughed nervously, recognizing the sound of his soft laugh with her.

“Only you, Helen,” he murmured, as he moved his lips down to hers to correct her slight miscalculation. “Only you.”

Whether he was laughing at her mistake or telling her that she would be the only one in his eyes she didn’t know. She also didn’t care. His features were prominent in her mind and as he allowed her to kiss him, she memorized the feel of him against her. 

They had all the time in the world to memorize and map out each other now and she looked forward to exploring and learning him. Being unable to see had its perks. Somehow, she was learning how to enjoy what she had been given.


End file.
